The Wrong Move
by thatcutellamachan
Summary: The army is stuck in Central waiting for orders.  Rumors of the Fuhrer starting a full-out Eruopean war start to circle, while Edward goes crazy with boredom.  He's bored enough that when a strange boy starts making advances, Edward is more than curious.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't judge it for the OC, the OC is meant to be symbolic and chiz like that. Anyway... whatever. :)**

...

_**His heart fluttered, as if one wrong word and he would die. It felt like a battle, but somehow, it seemed much worse. Edward knew battle, he had no idea what this was.**_

...

Edward was being followed. "Shit," he whispered to himself, adjusting the bag of groceries in his hand. He called them groceries, technically, it was junk food. After all, he only had to shop for himself.

He could hardly see the tail, but Edward knew he had been following him since the market. "Homunculi," Edward mumbled. He cast a glance behind with the guise of looking at a sign.

Taller. Black hair. Glasses. Nondescript clothes.

Edward fixed his eyes ahead. "Envy," he guessed. He glanced along at the sparse crowds, he was too close to the market for a confrontation, civilians would get hurt. He was glad though, he didn't have his red jacket. He might be able to slip through the crowd.

Edward passed a shop window. His eyes widened. The tail was getting closer. "Clumsy move." Edward decided whoever it was could not be a Homunculi. _So who is he, another military dog? A messenger from Mustage? Just some idiot?_

"Excuse me," and there was a hand on Edward's shoulder.

_Definetly an idiot. _Edward turned. The tale was a... _taller_ boy, maybe a few years older then Edward, with black hair that fell into his eyes behind oval glasses. He was wearing a scarf around his neck, so that his mouth barely showed between the black and white checked pattern and his nose. He was carrying a bag, with books inside, and wore a uniform Edward remembered seeing other young people around here wearing. He was incredibly skinny, perhaps that was why he was bundled up so much when the weather was only chilly.

"Who are you," Edward asked, annoyed.

"Dietrich Wolfgang Thorsten," the teenager with the large brown eyes answered immediately. "You overpaid one of the shopkeepers. I volunteered to bring you your change." He held out his hand.

Edward shifted the groceries to his automail limb and reached out with his flesh hand. Dietrich, Wolfgang Thorsten, dropped the change into Edward's hand. Edward didn't look at it, just to prove how little he cared. "Anything else," he asked, wondering why anyone would possibly go through such trouble to give a stranger change.

Dietrich shrugged. He looked for a moment at Edward, and then announced, "You're hair is oddly long. Some people might get the wrong idea."

Edward frowned. "_What_ wrong idea? And my hair is _fine_."

"'K," Dietrich said. And he turned to walk in the oppsite direction.

Edward clenched his fists and turned sharply back the way he was going. "There's nothing wrong with my hair," he muttered under his breath.

Edward dropped the groceries on the floor of the room he and Alphonse shared in the military compound. Alphonse was in the corner, reading, but his armoured head looked up the minute Edward returned. "Anything interesting happen?" Alphonse asked with the eagerness of someone who is extremely bored.

"No," Edward snapped, "nothing." That reminded him, and he opened his flesh hand. Edward lifted his eyebrow incredulously. _Pennies._ It didn't make since for someone to go completely out of their way to give a stranger back a few pennies and then insult his hair.

Alphonse sighed.

They were on leave for orders, which meant they were trapped in Central. That meant they had a literal guard on their room, and had to bring an entourage whenever they went outside together. Edward didn't have one when he was by himself, but that was because Mustang knew he wouldn't leave Central searching for the Stone or the Homunculi without Alphonse.

They'd asked Seska for some books to read, and she had misinterpreted that as _actual _books, about adventures and romances and other words, instead of books about _alchemy_, but she was away doing something for a library in another city and wouldn't be back for an entire week. Edward had tried, earlier, to apply for gun training, thinking one might be handy to have around, but it turned out the government had a policy against arming fifteen year olds, even if the fifteen year old happened to be in the military. Except for pondering their last failed search for the Stone, there was nothing else for Edward and Alphonse to do.

Needless to say, the entire waiting thing had gotten old five minutes after they'd been told about it, and they were now three days into it.

Worse, Mustang wouldn't tell Edward what they were waiting _for_. Just 'orders', as if 'orders' made it clear. Edward had guessed, from reading a single newspaper, that it had something to do with an international dispute with Austria and a few of those bigwig countries to the north like Britain, but even that was vague. Unless they were going to war, there was no reason the Fuhrer would put all, but a single post, of the alchmists and half of the army on standby; and Edward couldn't see how the dispute would possibly lead to war anyways. It was just a fight about how governments should be run, wasn't it?

Edward lay on his back, half on the bed and half off. "I'm bored," he told Alphonse.

Alphonse turned the page in his book, and sighed. "Me too. This is a boring book."

Edward lay back for a moment. "I'm going to take a shower," he decided.

"Okay," Alphonse said with utter disinterest.

Edward took the shower, keeping the water close to scalding to try and wipe away some of the constant tension in his shoulders. As he stepped out, and was braiding his long hair, he froze.

"There's nothing weird about my hair," Edward growled. He wiped his towel on the mirror and let his hair fall down naturally. "Maybe I need a haircut, but there's nothing weird about that," he said to himself.

Why not get a haircut, he was bored enough.

No. He was going to take a nap first.

Edward left early in the morning, either to get a haircut or try to find a book on alchemy he and Alphonse hadn't read in the library, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

The teenager from yesterday was sitting at a bus stop, halfway from the military compound to the library. Same scarf, slightly different shade of tie, with the exact same hair and everything else that Edward recalled from the day before. The teenager had a book opened in his lap, and a notepad beside him.

_What's the kid's name_? Edward thought just as he remembered. "Hey, you," Edward said, trying to seem disinterested as he made his way toward Dietrich Wolfgang Thesten, or something.

Dietrich looked up and looked back down at his work.

Edward bristled. "Hey!" He said louder.

Dietrich, with a roll of his eyes, looked up at Edward. "Yes?"

"What is wrong with my hair," Edward demanded.

"Look," Dietrich slowly closed his book, some math equations were on it, and his notebook. "What's-your-name, I was just-"

"Edward," Edward told him.

"Look, Edward," Dietrich corrected, "I didn't mean anything by it. But it _is _long."

"Your hair's long too," Edward told him.

Dietrich shrugged. "I like it that way. But you, obviously, don't know what that means, considering you let it grow so obvious and you don't have," Dietrich cut off. He reached under his color and tugged out a strange, plain leather necklace.

"What's that mean?" Edward frowned.

Placing his book and notepad into his book bag, Dietrich answered, "If you don't know, then there's no reason for me to tell you. The bus is here."

The community transportation eased its way around the corner, making a loud screeching noise as it did so which must have been how Dietrich knew it was there.

"How am I supposed to know if no one tells me," Edward snapped.

Dietrich shook his head. "Why would I tell you. You've been nothing but rude from the onset."

"I'm not rude!" Edward glared. He paused, thinking that over. "Well, maybe sometimes." The bus halted and the door opened. Dietrich stood up, walking past Edward to get inside. "I'm not finished talking to you," Edward said, debating whether to pull out his alchemist watch and force Dietrich and the bus to stop.

"I have to go to school. I have a test in the morning, and teachers who like to smack you with measuring tools," Dietrich said as he dropped his fare into the nucket beside the driver. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a second bill. "Well," Dietrich looked at Edward, "come on."

Technically, as military, Edward didn't have to pay fare. So, when he passed the bucket, a simple slight of hand brought the bill back into his hands.

Dietrich angled his way down the bus, passing the few business people and the one other uniform dressed teen, who looked like he was younger then Alphonse. Dietrich sat down, one row before the seats for the 'other' citizens. He pulled in beside the window and made room for Edward.

Edward looked back, but none of the Ishvalan were sitting on the bus.

"Well, Edward," Dietrich said, "you're certainly persistent."

"Sure," Edward dropped the bill onto Dietrich's lap. "I can pay for myself."

Dietrich shrugged and put the bill back into his pocket. "Alright, fine, I can respect that."

"But not my hair?"

Dietrich laughed. "I don't not like your..." He rubbed his temples like he was getting a headache, but was still smiling. "Look, it's just something you should ask your parents, alright."

"I don't have parents," Edward answered.

Dietrich's eyes widened in sympathy. "I'm sorry," and he took his long, skinny fingers and wrapped them comfortingly around Edward's hand. Edward thought nothing of it. "I lost my father to the war." He said softly, "But this... It's one of those things best not to talk about in public, where any of the Fuhrer's dogs might hear."

Edward suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to sabatogue his explanation. "I won't tell anyone," he said.

"Look, the hair and the leather bracelet," Dietrich swallowed and looked away. "It's just one of those secret code things."

"Which means?"

"It means you're the kind of guy who likes other men."

Edward blinked, and pulled his hand out of Dietrich's. "What," he said, shocked. "Like..."

"Like the way you're supposed to like girls, but you can't," Dietrich answered, rubbing his hands together.

"That's a thing?" Edward couldn't believe.

Dietrich shrugged. "Yeah." He looked in the mirror and needlessly fixed his scarf and his glasses. "So I saw you and I kind of liked your looks, and since you had long hair I decided to check."

"So I didn't really overpay," Edward realized.

Dietrich chuckled. "Come on, as if anyone would tell you if you've overpaid. This is Germany."

"So?"

"So we just got our economy back from that disaster of a war, we're all greedy little mongers," Dietrich said playfully. He smiled, a flicker of disappointment in his face, as he looked at Edward. "How old are you Edward?"

"Old," Edward answered automatically.

"Which means," Dietrich stressed.

"Old enough for anything that comes my way," Edward rephrased.

Dietrich rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Growing up on the streets mentality," he guessed.

"Taking care of my little brother 'on the streets' mentality," Edward answered.

Dietrich paused. "Oh," he said quietly.

Edward tugged suddenly at his glove, becoming aware that it was slipping at his wrist, coming close to revealing his automail arm. "Fifteen," he said, "almost sixteen."

"Well, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen," Dietrich told him. "You should take your little brother and get out of this place. Out of this whole country. Go somewhere safe, like America."

Edward frowned. "What? Why?"

Dietrich leaned closer, whispering, and Edward leaned closer too until their noses were hardly an inch apart, "You have to have seen the signs. Military being recalled, the disputes, the Fuhrer's speeches on country loyalty; it's happened in history hundreds of times before."

Edward blinked. "I don't understand," he said.

"We're going to war again," Dietrich said even quieter, "Germany and its allies against anyone who stands in our way, and when that happens," he glanced at the seats behind them, meant for the Ishvalans, "everything will just be one slaughter after another. So get away before you or your brother's names are written in the draft."

There it was. The explanation for everything, told so simply.

"What do you think the Fuhrer's planning to do with the alchemists?" Edward asked.

The bus came to a stop, and Dietrich stood up, stretching, before he sat back down. "Damned if I know," he said, "ask an alchemist."

Edward snorted, feeling his watch in his pocket as he was sitting. There was a cold breeze that rushed through the air, and he pulled his small black jacked a bit closer. Maybe he should wear his red coat next time.

"The winter of waiting," Dietrich said.

And Edward nodded in agreement, feeling there was no better way to describe it.

"This is a long ride," Dietrich leaned back. "Let's talk about something less depressing then war."

Edward thought for a moment. "So wait, if two men-"

"Softly," Dietrich warned as someone came down the aisle. The woman, holding a package in her arm, sat down in the farthest back corner of the bus. She kept her eyes down, but Edward, glancing at her, could tell they were red.

"I thought they were all evacuated to the camps," Edward said.

Dietrich shook his head, his mouth close enough to Edward's ear for Edward to feel Dietrich's warm breath, he muttered, "Then who would be in the brothels?"

Edward jumped slightly. "Oh," he realized. _I should be used to hearing horrible things about the government and the military by now, _he thought.

"So," Dietrich said quietly, "what do you want to know about 'when two men'."

"I don't know," Edward replied.

Dietrich shrugged. "I mean, we kiss and can have sex and everything."

Edward blinked. "_You've_ done that. With a man?"

"Yes." Dietrich looked at the window. "But it's done and he's dead now."

"I'm sorry," Edward said. He shivered again when another breeze ran through the fast moving bus.

Dietrich suddenly pulled off his scarf. He leaned over, wrapping it around Edward's neck. "Here, I don't need it."

"I," Edward was about to refuse.

"Look, it's a long ride. You're cold. I have a coat. I have millions of scarves at home. You can have that one," Dietrich said. "Besides, you're small, so you get colder."

"I AM NOT SHORT!" Edward shouted. "YOU-"

Dietrich held up his hands. "Whoa!" He said, brown eyes wide, "I didn't mean to cause offense."

Edward glared. "You better not have," he snapped, "I'm not short."

Dietrich took a breath. "Well," he placed his hand over Edwards head. "You're short_er_ then me."

"You're freakishly tall," Edward insisted.

Dietrich laughed. "Fine," he conceded, "I'll take that." His expression turned a bit more serious and he reverted back to a whisper, "Listen. All these questions, are you interested?"

"In what?"

"In me," Dietrich answered.

Edward swallowed. "I..." He couldn't form an answer.

Dietrich smiled. He reached into his schoolbag and took out his notepad. With careful manevering in the unstable bus, he tore out a sheet of paper and wrote down an address. "Here," he handed it to Edward. Edward took it with his flesh hand.

"Is this your address?" He asked.

Dietrich shook his head. "No way," he replied. "It's a club. They don't play music loud, and they don't follow... _government regulations_, if you know what I mean."

"As in, they let in men who like... other men?"

Dietrich nodded. "Good food too. If you want to talk more, I can get there tomorrow after school, about five."

Edward stared down at the address. _This is stupid_, he thought, _are you really going to do this? Is this just because you're bored_? "I'll be there," Edward decided.

"Alright," Dietrich said. "I have a question for you now."

"Okay," Edward said cautiously.

"Do you know how to dance?"

"No," Edward said immediately.

Dietrich smiled. "Good. Neither do I." He adjusted his glasses. "There's another stop up ahead. I wouldn't recommend going with me all the way to my school or you won't get back until the school is over."

"Oh," Edward stood up.

The bus stopped then.

"I'll see you. Tomorrow," Dietrich said.

Edward hesitated, and then said, "Yeah. I suppose."

...

**This is your review reminder. Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**OMG, TheNightShootingStar, calm down, it is O.K. This fic is not abandoned and I don't plan on abandoning it. Thank you though, I've never received a sweeter review, so here is the next chapter.**

…

"I thought you were going to cut your hair," Alphonse, sitting against the window with a book in his armored hands, observed.

"Thought better of it," Edward said, collapsing onto his bed face first.

"You bought a scarf?" Alphonse observed. "It's nice."

"Thanks."

_Too weird_, Edward decided at night, when he tried to sleep. He was tired, slightly sore from the long run he'd taken before, but his mind refused to comply. _You know he likes you and you still want to go._

Feelings weren't supposed to be questioned, they were just supposed to be felt and acted upon, but suddenly Edward found himself second guessing everything. His heart had beat faster talking to Dietrich on the train then it ever had even when Winry was almost half-naked standing over him rambling about automail.

_Am I the kind of guy who likes men instead of girls? Is that disgusting? Is that normal? _Edward buried his head deeper in the pillow and let out a sigh, pretending he was sleeping for Alphonse's sake. He could hear Alphonse turning pages, still reading by the light of the candle. Alphonse wouldn't admit it, since Edward had done so much complaining about the choice of books Seska had lent, but they both knew Alphonse was enjoying himself. He was wrapped up in some science fiction series at the moment, although before it had been an adventure from an author from Belgium.

Edward's mind trailed off to the scarf. _Dietrich likes me_, the thought suddenly rammed past his defenses accompanied by a rush of something Edward didn't want to name. Dietrich was handsome, in a bookish, skinny sort of way. He certainly wasn't disgustingly muscular like Armstrong, and he probably didn't even work out, but there was something about the way he just looked, matter-of-fact, past all the lies and stated exactly what was happening. Germany was going to war.

_The scarf_, Edward thought. Should he wear it? It didn't exactly look any sort of nice with his clothes. He supposed he could just wear his... red jacket.

The jacket _everyone_ knew belonged to the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Somehow, Edward felt like Dietrich wouldn't talk to him again, and he wouldn't even be let into the club-thing he'd talked about, as the Fullmetal Alchemist.

_I need normal clothes_, Edward decided.

He got up early in the morning. "I'm going out. I'm bored. I'm going to spend something," Edward told Alphonse. "Want me to get you anything?"

"I'm good," Alphonse told him. "I'm going to read down by the training lawn."

"'K."

Shopping in Central seemed easy, Edward decided. And then he walked into the first store.

There weren't signs saying 'this is nice, wear it'. Instead, there were rows upon rows of shirts and ties and pants.

"Can I," a tall man with a slight accent came toward Edward and stopped. "Hello," he leaned down to look Edward in the eye. "Are you lost?"

Edward glared at him, and left.

The next place, when he walked in holding his alchemist watch in front of him, was much better.

It felt like a whirl of fabric and prices, and unrelated things and people talking, and in fact Edward just barely hung on, by the skin of his teeth, and came out with something he was assured looked nice.

Edward had a hat, and he put it over his head, wondering if Dietrich would recognize him without it. He barely recognized himself, with the nice, grey pants, the matching tie, and the black shirt. Edward, just in case, tucked his watch in his pocket, and then he tied his black shoes, checking for the fourteenth time that his socks were long enough it was impossible to see his automail leg, and then slipped on his gloves, rolling the sleeves over them to keep skin and metal from showing.

Nice clothes were different, he decided. Stiffer, and harder to fight in then his regular clothes. "Just this once," Edward said, feeling like a stranger.

He took the scarf, looping it once around his neck, and then took it off. Without it, he tip toed past Alphonse and out the door. He was in the hallway, then the staircase, and by the exit.

"Edward."

Edward turned fast, eyes widening, hands pressed together for alchemy. It was Riza. He didn't let down his guard.

"Going out," she asked. She herself was wearing different clothes, and her hair was down. "I was wondering whether or not you boys were human."

"I," Edward began.

"Good luck," Riza Hawkeye said. She walked by and left.

Edward pulled the address out of his hand and carefully left the building, making sure no one else saw him. He didn't see Alphonse watching him leave from the window.

The place wasn't far, so he walked. He was a bit early anyways. It was a quarter to five when he reached the alley.

The turned the address over in his hands, remembering Dietrich had written something else. 'Say you're with me'.

There was a rather ugly looking, dirty door, with the number barely holding on. Edward swallowed, felt for a moment like he was stepping into a Homunculi trap, and then knocked.

It was a woman he opened the door, which surprised Edward. She had fat, naturally red lips and dark skin. "This is a private residence," the woman said in monotone. "Private property."

Edward looked at the address again, flipping it over. _Is this the wrong place_...

"Let me see that," the woman snatched the paper out of Edward's hand. She nodded at the address, and turned the the other side. "Who wrote this?" She asked.

"Uh... Dietrich." Edward said. "Dietrich Wolfgang... _Thor_sten?"

The woman's eyes softened. "He's coming?" She opened the door, and her large lips fell into a wide smile. "After Lukas... it's been awhile. And who are you?"

"Edward," Edward answered. "El..." He froze before finishing his last name, remembering the name 'Elric' was famous.

"Edward El," the woman rushed Edward inside. "You look very nice." Inside, the house was better then the door had led him to believe. The door led into a parlor, with bright, though slightly dirty wallpaper, and some old but comfortable looking chairs. There was a stairway to the upstairs, but there was a door with a lock halfway up, and Edward came upon the impression that the woman lived up there. Below, he could hear the faint sound of music. There was a voice, singing in another language. _English_, Edward guessed. The sound though, swinging trumpets and a clarinet, sounded American. _American English_, he corrected.

"You can sit here and wait if you like, or..." the woman made a gesture for Edward to follow her. "Come down stairs. I'll get you a drink while you wait." Edward went down the stairs behind her. "I'm Marcie by the way, I'm from France. My husband, Steffen, is downstairs, so if you want anything."

Edward got the impression that Dietrich was very popular here.

There was also something else, something darker. This 'Lukas' must have been the person Dietrich was talking about, the one who had died. Edward wasn't sure if he should feel jealous or sad, in fact it was a mixture of both that came to mind.

The basement had been emptied out and turned into some sort of miniature ballroom. There were toilets at the far end, for boys and girls, and a bar on the other side where Edward could smell some breads cooking. Tables, small with a few chairs, were on the side of the walls, but the majority of the room was taken over by a huge empty space. A record player, in the farthest corner, was playing music as loud as it could, but the sound was quiet. In the center of the floor, there were only two people, a boy and a girl.

The woman with the red lips went up to talk to the man standing behind the bar, and then she left. Feeling awkward, Edward sat in on one of the farthest chairs.

The couple was young, a boy and a girl, and Edward couldn't figure out why they would bother coming to a place as dirty as this when their genders would make it easy for them to dance anywhere else. Then two things came to his attention, the girl's eyes looked up at Edward for a moment, red and in tears, but the red wasn't from crying. The teenager, a solid looking young man, buried his face against her hair and was holding her. They danced, not keeping time with the American music.

Remembering what Dietrich had said about the brothels, Edward looked away, feeling shame clenching his stomach tight.

"Eddie, that right?" The man from the bar, a thick man with a large, pepper and salt beard, young eyes, and a heavy belly, set a drink of water down on the table and then, wiping his hands with a cloth in his black, servers apron, sat down in the other seat.

"Edward," Edward corrected.

"Now, Ed," the man said, shortening Edward's name even further, "Dietrich told you about keeping this place secret, didn't he?"

It was inferred, so Edward nodded.

"It's just that the government wouldn't approve of our music, or the people who come here. But since you're with Dietrich I suppose you know that."

_The government doesn't allow foreign music?_ Edward thought. That was news to him, but he wouldn't put it past them.

"Now, I'm sure you know about how hard it is being how you are in Germany," the man continued, "and everyone else here has it bad. We don't discriminate, no matter what, understood?" Edward nodded and the man, Steffen, continued, "And if you see any faces here that you recognize, or recognize later on the street, you _haven't_ recognized them, understood?"

It was a lot like Edward's last twelve missions, he decided, and Roy Mustang's debriefing afterward about secrecy. He nodded.

"Good," Steffen grinned somewhere under his beard. "Now, keep your food on the table, trash cans are in the bathrooms, all business is done in the bathroom, and by _all _I mean 'all _private_' business."

Edward flushed at the implications, accented by the man's awkward hand gestures.

"You're a good kid, Eddie," the man said, and he clamped his big hand down on Edward's metal hand. Edward tried to pull it away, but the man, sensing something odd, held on. "You're not wearing a wire..." He frowned.

Edward pulled off his glove, and showed the man the metal hand. He tugged the glove back on quickly.

"Sorry, kid," the man said, "we have to be careful." Edward shrugged. "How'd you loose your hand?"

Edward heard a screaming in his ears, and a sudden flashback of pain rattled his mind. "Got into an accident with a car," he lied.

"What happened?"

Sweating slightly, Edward elaborated on the spot. "After my mother died, my brother... at the funeral, ran out into the street. There was a car. I pushed him out of the way and got hit."

The man nodded, smiling. "Good kid. Like Lukas." He stood up. "Everyone normally starts getting here at sixish. Is Dietrich coming soon, I wanted to talk with him."

"Five," Edward answered.

There was a clock at the bar, and the man glanced at it. "A few minutes, but you know Dietrich, always late for everything."

Edward didn't know. He drank the glass of water, slowly, thinking about nothing in particular. One more person came down, a heavy girl with beautiful eyes, and she stood by the record player, just listening the the music.

_Teenagers,_ Edward thought. Without warning, a stab of pain shot through him and the unbidden thought rose up, _I wish I had a normal childhood._

A few minutes later, Dietrich came down the stairs. He talked to Steffen for awhile, passed a few bills, before he made his way to Edward. He was wearing rather tight black pants that stuck to his legs, a long brown shirt, and a thick blue scarf around his shoulders. His hair seemed wet, and there were droplets of water on his glasses to prove it. When Dietrich got closer, he even had a distinctive, almost wood-like smell. He swallowed nervously, rubbing a hand on his handsome face as if there would be some mark on his skin. Dietrich sat down.

"Nice to see you, Edward," he said. His voice shook slightly, but when he added, "You look nice," it was normal.

"Thanks," Edward said.

"I ordered something," Dietrich told him, "the food is good here."

He'd said that yesterday, but Edward didn't mention it. His heart fluttered, as if one wrong word and he would die. It felt like a battle, but somehow, it seemed much worse. Edward knew battle, he had no idea what this was.

"I was thinking a lot, yesterday and this morning," Edward said.

"Yeah," Dietrich leaned forward.

"I thought, maybe 'this' kind of makes since of it all." Edward looked carefully at Dietrich. "Maybe, I might like it."

Dietrich smiled. "That's good." He held out his hands. "So, why don't we start with getting to know each other? My name's Dietrich, I live with my mother over her bakery. My aunt is my only other relative. I like history, and I read a lot. Basics. Your turn."

"I'm Edward," Edward replied, "my brother and I have an apartment. I work, but I'm on vacation right now. We don't have any relatives. I don't like to read."

"What do you like?" Dietrich asked.

"Alchemy," Edward answered honestly.

Steffan came over, holding something that looked like breath with beef and cheese inside. He set it down, along with a water in front of Dietrich. "Boys," he nodded. And he left.

"This is great," Dietrich said, "best food you can get for cheap, except at my mom's, but I have to say that." Taking a knife and fork, he cut two pieces and, taking the first in hand, pushed the second toward Edward.

Edward, cautiously, took a bite. He nodded. It wasn't bad, he'd certainly eaten better before, but he'd had far worse. And it was a lot better then the sweets and nonperishables he always bought for himself. He smiled at Dietrich, who was watching him, and then took a drink of water.

"So, do you want to be like Full Metal?"

Edward choked.

Dietrich, kindly, handed him a napkin and let him cough it out.

"Sorry," Edward apologized, trying to shake away the tears that had come to his eyes.

"It's okay, I just figured, Full Metal is the youngest alchemist ever, right? Wasn't he like eighteen when he joined the army? And he's legendary, at least skill wise, so... you know, like my mom looks up to these chefs from France, she's always buying magazines," Dietrich explained.

"I think," Edward decided, "right about now, I would really like to be just like Full Metal. Without the whole 'Full Metal' part."

"Doesn't he wear a suit of armor," Dietrich said, "and bring his little brother, this small kid in a red jacket, wherever he goes?"

"Um..." Edward blinked. Then, he smiled. "Yeah," he lied, "I think that's right."

"Must be crazy to be as strong as that." Dietrich asked, "So how good are you at alchemy?"

"I'm really good," Edward said, "it's my hobby, when I'm not working or taking care of Al."

"Al? You're little brother?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah," he said, "Al's this scrawny little, hyperactive kid. We used to get in fights all the time, and actually, we still do. He had... the biggest eyes you've ever seen... He looks up to me so much." Edward swallowed. "I'm always afraid I'm going to disappoint him. That I won't be able to take care of him."

"I've always wanted siblings," Dietrich confessed, "but my dad died when I was so young. My mom never remarried."

"Mine too. My dad was always gone," Edward told him.

"Well," Dietrich cut himself another slice of the food. "Let's toast."

"To what?"

"To hopes that America ends the Fuhrer's coming mess before it gets out of hand," Dietrich said.

"I'll toast to that," Edward agreed, but he couldn't see what was so special about America.

The food was good, and by the time they were done the room was more crowded then ever. Twice people stopped to talk to Dietrich, to ask him where he'd been and to be introduced to Edward, but Edward was sure a lot more people here knew Dietrich, they just didn't want to interrupt. At some point, the music turned up louder, but it was still quiet enough to easily talk. They were probably forced to keep the music down to keep people outside from hearing.

When the food was done, Dietrich stood up. "Let's dance," he decided.

Edward flushed. "I don't..." he began. Dietrich grabbed Edward's flesh hand and forced him to his feet.

"Neither do I," he laughed, "but there's nothing wrong with barely trying."

The dance floor seemed to be, by just the way things worked, divided into the two sections, those who mostly stood around, a larger crowd, and those who were actually dancing and doing it well, a smaller group. Dietrich brought Edward right at the edge.

By now, there were more people dancing who were the same gender, two girls were kissing in the corner as they moved, so at least Edward felt less awkward. But there were others, interracial, rich and poor, Ishvalan and normal, and any other pairing of teenagers and young adults Edward could never imagine even holding hands in the open.

Dietrich put his arms on Edward's waist, and suddenly he was closer, so close Edward could see everything. "Put yours arms around my neck," Dietrich whispered helpfully, and Edward did.

The music wasn't American now, it seemed like French, and Edward understood that better. They were singing something about roses and hearts, and it was a soft, gentle song. If Edward had been feeling different, he would have laughed at it, but at the moment he stared at Dietrich's brown eyes and thought it was nice.

They swayed, moving in time, Edward clumsily following Dietrich's every step and Dietrich kindly didn't say a word.

At some point, his sleeve started to fall and Edward, trying to bring his flesh hand around to pull up his sleeve to keep his automail showing, was nose to nose against Dietrich. Dietrich's eyes were the kindest, most knowing eyes Edward had ever seen. Dietrich's hair fell gently around his softly masculine features, and his glasses brightened his pale skin. Dietrich's lips were even whiter then his skin.

"So," Dietrich said softly, "are you always 'Edward'?"

"I can be Ed sometimes," Edward told him.

"Some people call me 'Deet'," Dietrich said, "I like my full name better though."

"Hm," Edward answered. His face this close to Dietrich, he was shockingly aware of how easy it would be to... to stand for a moment on the tip of his toes and press his lips against Dietrich's.

"You have golden eyes," Dietrich whispered, leaning down, his lips brushing the edge of Edward's nose like his train of thought was going the same way Edward's was. "That's what I first noticed when I saw you. Golden eyes and golden hair." At Edward's smile, he moved so they were almost kissing. "You're a good person, Ed."

"Thanks," Edward answered breathlessly.

The track ended, and there was a pause as someone took out the record and began to look for a new one.

Their bodies still, Dietrich muttered, "You're brother must be worried with you out so late. It's almost nine."

"I do have to go," Edward said. Their faces were so close now he couldn't even see Dietrich's mouth anymore, and his eyes stared just into Dietrich's, the tip of his nose touched the edge of Dietrich's slipping glasses.

"We should," Dietrich started to pull back, "I had a good time. A really good time."

"This was a date, right," Edward said, his hand stopping Dietrich from moving farther.

"Yeah."

Edward swallowed. "I thought date's ended with a kiss."

"Some do," and Dietrich was closer again. "Some don't. Have you been on many dates?"

"None," Edward answered breathlessly.

"Then allow me," Dietrich said. His hand pressed against the back of Edward's head, his long fingers trailing into Edward's braid. Dietrich pushed their mouth's together.

Edward closed his eyes. It felt like, like there was something soft against his mouth, something slightly wet and oddly angled, but his beating heart and a rush of new sensations said otherwise. Dietrich pulled back, just slightly, their lips still touching, and then kissed him again, harder, and this time air rushed into Edward's head so fast he felt like he was falling. Dietrich's hands on his back, and his arm now wrapped around Deitrich's neck, held him in place.

Dietrich pulled away and Edward, too disoriented to do otherwise, let him.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

** I just finished freakin' Conquerors of Shamballa. Fucking whoa. DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN! It's just that total AGONY of knowing that it's OVER but it's so DAMN GOOD!**

** Ugh...**

** And just to clarify the setting of my story, sorry, should'a wrote this earlier, my story plays itself out as sorta a mesh between 'Earth' and 'Shamballa' (that's just what I'm calling our world and the other one). It's the brink of World War II (there was a time jump) and Fuhrer Bradley is Hitler, but Edward has not yet reached the point where he knows the Fuhrer is (SPOILER!:) a homunculus. He and Alphonse were called back from the search for the Philosopher's Stone to await marching orders. Oh... no Elricest for this story, sorry. It's just Edward/Dietrich. Also, I'm not very comfortable with sex scenes yet, I'm sort of inexperienced in that area, so I may or may not include it, but I will do my best to please you all, so if you really want it then I'll put in the research to write one, but you have to let me know. That's all, I think. Anything else, please send me a message or put it in a review.**

…

Edward was much too happy too remember to keep Alphonse from seeing him in the different clothes. And he was much too happy to do anything but change and bury his head in his pillow. Alphonse almost said something, but he didn't.

Edward fell asleep to the best dream he'd ever had.

Alphonse dropped a book on Edward's head.

Waking up, Edward jumped out of bed. "What?" He shouted, looking around for an enemy. It took a long moment for him to piece together what had happened. "Al!"

Alphonse folded his armor arms. "Don't act like you didn't deserve it," Alphonse said angrily, his small voice resonating in his empty chest chamber to be loud to be practically screaming.

"I was asleep," Edward growled, his hands in fists.

"It's past lunch," Alphonse growled, "you were asleep long enough! And I was sick of that happy smile on your face!"

Edward's eyes narrowed. "_Excuse_ me," he snapped. "You did that because I was _happy_?"

"What were you doing these past few days," Alphonse cried out, "where were you yesterday! Why did you buy new clothes? And why didn't you tell me?"

Edward stepped back, his stomach clenching in guilt. "I..."

Alphonse waited. He let out a hiccup.

Edward knew that sound, and his face instantly became horrified. If Alphonse had a body, there would be tears in his eyes. "Al," Edward said quietly.

"Why didn't you trust me?" Alphonse demanded. He hiccuped again, struggling to keep a cry from shaking his armoured body.

"I didn't mean to, I didn't think about it, Al, I just," Edward began.

"I don't want to be left out! Just because we have to have a guard if we go out together doesn't mean you can just leave me behind!" Alphonse shouted miserably, "What am I to you?"

"I was on a date!" Edward yelled.

Alphonse froze. If he had a body, his jaw would have dropped.

"I met someone when I was getting groceries, and we were talking, and last night we went to this place and we danced and... and we kissed, okay?" Edward felt a blush spreading over his cheeks, but he forced himself to continue, "I couldn't take you along on a date, could I? And I guess I might have mentioned what was going on, I just didn't... think, okay Al? I just forgot to think."

"You kissed someone?" Alphonse's voice was shocked.

The blush was probably horrifically red by then. "Yeah," Edward confessed, as ashamed as if he were admitting murder, "I did. And... and it was really nice."

"Was she pretty?" Alphonse asked curiously.

The blush covered Edward's entire face, and he could feel it down to his toes. "I..." He swallowed.

"Was she not pretty," Alphonse amended. Hearing no answer, he asked, "Was she part of the military? How old was she?"

"Seventeen, Al," Edward blinked. "Um... well sorta... some people..." He blanked.

"Did you kiss a lot," Alphonse asked, trying to get to the source of the problem.

Edward rubbed his temples. "I need to sit down," he said, and he sat on the edge of his bed. Alphonse sat down next to him, and his weight made the whole bed move so Edward was slightly pushed against Alphonse's side.

"You can tell me," Alphonse whispered, "I'm your brother. I keep all our secrets."

"Okay," Edward wondered how he was going to explain something he'd only realized a few days ago. "Al."

Alphonse nodded his armour head.

"Girls like guys, right? And guys like girls," Edward said.

Alphonse gasped. "You slept with her?" He concluded.

"What?" Edward jumped, and then hit the side of Alphonse's armour. "You're too young to know about that!"

Alphonse chuckled.

"Anyways," Edward continued. "Um... there are some things... sometimes the government doesn't like some things. Like, when Ishvalans marry regular citizens."

Alphonse nodded and said, "I know, Ed."

Nervously, Edward said, "But, the government's wrong about that. Like it's wrong about chimeras and slaughtering innocent people."

"Ed. I know," Alphonse said.

"Well, sometimes guys don't like girls," Edward explained. His face was probably the shade of a tomato right them. "Sometimes they like other guys, better."

Alphonse frowned. "Like who?"

Edward took a deep breath. "Um... his name is Dietrich." He stopped.

Alphonse made a gesture for Edward to keep going.

"And I was hanging out with him. Last night. On the date."

Alphonse sensed that that was the end, and he looked down at his knees. He thought for a long moment, so long it made Edward uncomfortable.

"Al?"

Alphonse said, "You like other guys?"

"Yeah," Edward said awkwardly, "I think so."

"Not me, right," Alphonse asked, his voice worried.

Edward snorted. "Oh, gross, no. You're my little brother."

Alphonse's voice became gravely serious. "What about..._ Major Armstrong..._" Alphonse's entire demeanor seemed clouded by a darkness of uncertainty.

"Ew," Edward said.

"Oh good," Alphonse exclaimed, relieved. "'Cause he's _weird_."

"Of course he is! And Dietrich doesn't look a _thing_ like him," Edward insisted.

"What branch of the military is he in," Alphonse wondered.

Edward shook his head. "No," he said, "he's... why does he have to be in the military?"

Alphonse thought for a moment, scratching the side of his armour head with his gauntlet. "I don't know," he replied, "what does he do then?"

"He's a student. He goes to one of the schools outside Central," Edward said, "and he doesn't care a bit about the military."

"Then why did he kiss you," Alphonse asked.

Edward swallowed. "He," Edward said, "he doesn't know."

"ED!"

"I know! I just couldn't tell him, alright!" Edward bristled, "What was I supposed to do? Say, by the way I'm the Full Metal Alchemist while we were talking about the weird people he sees at his mother's bake shop or my gold eyes-"

Alphonse burst into laughter.

Edward crossed his arms. "_What_," he snapped.

Alphonse's laughter continued, and he had the make several loud shouts "Gold eyes!" before it even faded slightly.

"He's the one who said that," Edward mumbled.

Alphonse stopped, but then gasped with a sudden epiphany. "Ed," he whispered, "you have a _boy_friend."

"It's not _funny_, Al, and if you tell _anyone_ I could go to jail. You better promise not to mention it, understand?"

Alphonse nodded. "I promise." He chuckled. "So," Alphonse looked at Edward, his entire form suddenly filled with a powerful curiosity Edward could practically smell, "what was kissing like?"

Edward stared down at his hands. "Uh..."

"Come on, Ed, you _have _to tell me," he pleaded.

_Alphonse doesn't have a mouth_, Edward thought, _but he will. Soon. When he gets his body back and I get my limbs_. "You know, when you've performed a piece of alchemy perfectly that first time, after trying for so long to get it right, and then suddenly you do and you get that feeling in your stomach? It's like that, but then, there's someone's mouth on yours. Like, like a mouth..." Edward tried another alchemy metaphor, "It's equivalent exchange, but bad, because, all your doing is touching your mouths but there's this overwhelmingly happy feeling..." Edward added," Just like alchemy, like a chimera, bringing two things together, except-"

"Ed, that doesn't make any sense," Alphonse told him unhappily.

"Well... well it's not that easy to explain!"

"What's not easy to explain?" The door was slightly open, they hadn't heard it while Edward had been shouting. Roy Mustang looked apathetically through the door. "What," he said in response to Edward's horrified face.

"Kissing," Alphonse answered Mustang's question.

Mustang blinked. "That must have been an interesting conversation," he commented.

"_What are you doing here? Don't you knock?_" Edward demanded, enraged.

"Hm," Mustang said. "We have a meeting. Since my secretary and all my staff seem to have disappeared, I am forced to tell everyone myself."

"A meeting?" Edward stared. _The war._ "Our orders from the Fuhrer?"

"No," Mustang said unhelpfully. "But," he looked at Alphonse, a sudden smirk crossing his face, "I am curious how little Ed here _was _explaining kissing to you."

"I! AM! NOT! SHORT!" Edward shouted in fury. "COME AND FIGHT ME AND I'LL BEAT YOU UP AND PROVE THAT I'M NOT SHORT! I'LL GRIND YOU INTO A PULP! I'LL KILL YOU! HOW'S THAT FOR SHORT, HUH?"

"That has nothing to do with being short," Mustang told him.

"I don't know," Alphonse said, "he just kept talking about alchemy."

"BE QUIET YOU TRAITOR BROTHER!"

"Well, Ed is not known for being _articulate_. See me in conference room C in ten minutes. I'd start going now, because if you're late I'm going to give you cleaning duty with the cadets." Mustang looked calmly down at Edward. "Hawkeye tells me you were on a date."

"You... don't you... GRAGH!" Edward clenched his fists like he wanted nothing more then ram his fists through Mustang's head.

"After this meeting, I want you to come with me to my office, Ed," Mustang told him. "We need to talk."

The blood drained from Edward's face. "About my date?" He guessed.

Mustang nodded. And left.

Edward thought he hadn't had a tail. He hadn't even _bothered _to look for one. He'd betrayed Dietrich _already_. He'd revealed the location of that secret hideout. That woman, whats-her-name, was in trouble, along with that guy, Steffen. "Oh no," Edward whispered.

"What do you suppose the meeting is about if it's not our orders?" Alphonse asked.

"If you tell Mustang _one more thing_ about our conversation, Al, I will cut your body apart and put it in the dog park!" Edward snapped.

"Okay," Alphonse said as if he believed the threat. He hummed as he walked after Edward.

Halfway to the conference room, Edward stopped. "Okay, why are you so happy," he demanded.

"I'm just thinking," Alphonse said.

"About what?"

"I'm going to have a pretty girlfriend when I get my body back," Alphonse told Edward. "A really pretty girlfriend."

Alphonse always _had_ been the only one fooled by the beautiful women they came into contact with.

"Oh," Edward said. Trying to ignore the crushing weight of responsibility sinking in his chest, he asked, "What color will her hair be?"

"Brown," Alphonse answered immediately.

"And her eyes," he added.

"Blue!" And Alphonse continued to hum.

When they entered the conference room, it seemed the only people Mustang had managed to find were the ones closest to him. Riza Hawkeye was there, in military uniform and not dressed up like Edward had last seen her, as was Vato Falman, Heymans Breda, Kain Fury, Jean Havoc, and, coming through the door with Mustang, Frank Archer.

"Good afternoon. I'm sure some of you had an interesting morning." Mustang looked straight at Edward. "And I know for a fact three of us have a hangover, one of which is me."

Riza Hawkeye looked miserable as well, as did Frank Archer, who, Edward was happy to note, was in pajamas.

"I received orders from the Fuhrer, not marching orders however." Mustang told them as he sat down at the head of the table, "The Fuhrer does not believe our army is getting enough recruits, despite his newspaper, television, and radio campaigns. The amount of recruits has dropped almost half in the last few years. He wants us, the alchemists," He looked at a few people in the ground, including Edward, "and the other branches of the army," he looked at the ones in the group who weren't alchemists like Hawkeye, "to start recruiting. Since we're the more famous faces, considering how fast even Full Metal's reputation has spread, he wants the alchemists to lead demonstrations and take shifts at recruiting offices, give speeches at events in the area, and to make public appearances at everything from bake sales to movie premieres." Mustang was obviously not happy about this. Frank Archer was the only one who seemed pleased.

"Can't they just boil us in oil," Hawkeye muttered.

_That would be too humane_, Edward thought.

"I assign," Mustang closed his eyes and wiggled his finger, "Archer," he announced even though his finger had landed somewhere between Fury and Breda "to tell the rest of the staff what happened at this meeting. And tell my secretaries that the Fuhrer's schedule for rally's and the town event schedule will be on their desks and they need to assign every event with suitable attendees." Mustang stood and the rest of them stood as well. He raised his hand in salute, which they all copied, and dropped it.

"Now," Mustang said, "Ed, in my office so we can talk about your date."

Everyone went quiet.

"Why did that have to be public knowledge?" Edward shouted.

"Wow, Ed," Havoc grinned, "getting into the game."

Edward's jaw clenched. He dropped his hand onto the table. In seconds, the conference table turned into nails.

"Ed, please. Restraint is one of the first things I have to teach you," Mustang said, the smirk crossing his entire face.

The laughter that followed Mustang's statement was worse considering the fact Edward had no idea what that was supposed to have meant.

Bristling, he followed Mustang to his office, debating whether or not he'd prefer to have Alphonse, who would be back in the room reading by now, with him or not.

Mustang's office was unbearably long ever since his promotion, and as Edward walked down he couldn't help but feel that he was getting more embarrassed instead of angry. The few pictures that lined the darkly lit room were vague, and the shelves full of random books and random objects was the same. The most light came from the window, and Edward didn't like the thought someone could see this conversion, even if they were stories high. Roy Mustang sat behind his large desk, and Edward stood until Mustang ordered him to sit.

"All joking aside, Edward," Mustang told him.

_Joke?_ Edward wondered, but he didn't dare say that out loud.

"I'm glad that you've managed to put your obsession on hold, even if you were forced to stop searching, enough to concentrate on love. However, due to your home situation I know you could not have been given a through education in this matter." Mustang said, in a humored tone disguised as apathy, "And, honestly, alchemy is one of the worst metaphors you could possibly use for describing kissing."

"Shut up," Edward growled.

"I note your considerate suggestion and ignore it," Mustang said. "Now. Ed. You do know what sex is, don't you?"

Edward's face was sick of being red and shifted to purple. "Of course I do," he insisted, "I don't need you to-"

"Good." Mustang's smirk shifted into a pleasant smile. "Now, I've always liked you Ed, so I want to share a little secret with you."

"Huh?" Edward let a disgusted look cross his face.

"I dated every woman I ever pursued, and I was _always _the one to break it off. And believe me, there were many. At times, more then one. And once, more then two and all four knew about it." Mustang rested his head on his hands. "The first thing you should know is that _everyone_ likes a man in uniform. In fact, that's the absolute best thing _about_ being in the military. Second, always pay attention to what a woman is saying, but if you space out, just tell her she's wonderful. Third-"

"How many of these are there?"

"Third, the first kiss is most important. Never worry about yourself, always try to make the first kiss the best. Now, _proper_ kissing, is good for the first kiss if you're trying to show her you respect her, which, I believe, is the best approach. But _after _the first kiss, perhaps a day after, you can start putting your tongue in her mouth-"

Edward wanted to die.

"How'd it go," Alphonse asked nervously.

"_**Never again**__," _Edward dropped into his bed, and died.

Edward half debated avoiding Dietrich completely the next day, but he got up extremely early anyways. He went into the city, taking a long, arduous time to be sure he had no tail, before he dared go near Dietrich's bus stop.

Dietrich was there, Edward saw his hair right away. He was bent over the same book as last time.

Edward snuck up behind him. "So. How've you been?"

Dietrich jumped a mile in the air. His books fell to the floor, and he turned around, his brown eyes wider then soccer balls. "Edward!" He clamped his hand over his heart. "Oh my God," Dietrich muttered, gasping.

"What's wrong," Edward said, concerned. He reached down, picking Dietrich's books off the cement.

"You just," Dietrich shook his head. "Whoa. You just scared the heck out of me, that's all."

"You're easily frightened?"

Dietrich froze. "No," he said quickly, obviously lying.

"Do you want to go get lunch," Edward asked.

"I have school," Dietrich told him. "I'm sorry, otherwise, I would, but, we can get dinner later. Same place."

"Okay." Edward handed Dietrich his books.

They paused, little to say. Dietrich finally told him, "I had a great time, the other night."

"Me too."

Dietrich's eyes fell to Edward's lips.

"See you later."

The bus had arrived.

"Oh, you're back," Alphonse said happily. He dropped the book in his hands and raced his clanking, clacking, metal body to Edward's side. "Did you kiss again," he whispered, not wanting anyone to hear.

"No," Edward said. "I'm going to see him later tonight." He jumped to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. He'd worn his usual clothes, without his red jacket, but frowned at them. "I need something to wear," Edward decided.

"But you bought regular civilian clothes the other day," Alphonse reminded.

"I need something else. Normal people have tons of different clothes, all I have is that, this, and my army uniform I never wear and _absolutely_ am never going to wear." Edward grimaced at his own clothes. He picked up the scarf, and turned it around in his hands. "It's Dietrich's," Edward said to answer the questioning tilt of Alphonse's head.

"What should you wear?" Alphonse wondered.

"I don't know," Edward said. "Something nice." He frowned. "Let's go."

Alphonse shook his head. "But if we both go out, we have to be followed."

"Yeah, whatever, they already know I'm dating, no one will think it's weird. Come on, Al."

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	4. Chapter 4

** More, for those of you who like this, but be warned that my school is going to keep updates away for a few weeks (probably, idk, maybe I'll procrastinate).**

…

"You look good," Alphonse assured Edward.

"I know," Edward lied. He fidgeted with his clothes in the mirror.

"Really, you look good. The grey shirt looks nice. And remember what that lady said, shades of grey and black, dull colors, look really good with you. Make your eyes look bigger or something," Alphonse said.

Edward fidgeted with the gloves. In his nervousness part of it had caught on on of his automail spokes.

Alphonse hesitated, then asked, "Does he know about your arm and your leg?"

"No, why would he need to know that? He'd ask where I got it and then I'd have to tell him. That is _not_ a conversation I want to have," Edward managed to free the glove and smoothed it over his hand.

"Why not?"

"Because I like him, but it's not like I can marry him, Al," Edward studiously fixed his color, "I just like him."

"And that's why you spend all day getting ready for dates with him, is that right?" Alphonse said, his voice annoyed.

Edward blinked.

"You don't have an arm and a leg, but at least you have the rest of you," Alphonse growled, "so while I can't go out and have a girlfriend until I have a body, you had better enjoy what you have now for the both of us. Or I'll beat you up."

Edward nodded, smiling slightly. "You're sounding more and more like me every day, Al." He walked over to his brother. "You're too young to date. It's a good thing you don't have a body right now, 'cause with your looks you'd have every girl in ten miles swooning over you."

"Really," Alphonse whispered in awe.

"Would I lie about that?" Edward fumbled again with his perfect grey collar. "How do I look?"

Annoyed, Alphonse repeated, "You look _fine_, Ed."

"We got all the tags, right?" Edward looked around himself again.

"Of course."

"Well, now that we know what colors I look good in we can just use alchemy instead of buying new clothes," Edward decided. He leaned down to make sure his long black sock covered all of his visible automail leg.

"Leave _now_, Edward, or I'll drag you out," Alphonse threatened. He opened the door to prove his point.

"Fine," Edward said. He stomped out. "Al, do I-"

"Go!" Alphonse shouted.

"Alright," Edward rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, I'm leaving."

Fury saw Edward as he was leaving. "Hey," Fury began to say.

"Don't say a word to me I do not want your advice I don't care what you have to say, thank you." Edward rushed by, slamming to door to the military compound shut behind him.

Fury opened the door and called after Edward, into the street, "Good luck, Elric!"

When Edward knocked on the door, this time the woman with the wide red lips let him in with a smile. "Edward El," she remembered.

Edward was too embarrassed to tell her he'd forgotten her name, so instead he said politely, "Hello."

"Dietrich is already downstairs. He was on time, for once, a first for him." As the woman shut the door she winked at Edward, "I think he really likes you, kid."

_Are all adults perverts_? Edward wondered. He stopped halfway down the stairs to make sure his collar was straight. He could hear British music, and the sound of people talking. It was five thirty, and he was pretty sure that it was Friday, so it stood to reason the place would be more crowded.

It was, with about half the people that were there late the night before. Edward saw Dietrich immediately, he was sitting at the first table. There was a girl and a guy beside him, both looking like they were near Dietrich's age. The girl was dressed in Americana style clothing, despite her obviously German features, but she looked very nice. The guy did as well, and he was good looking, Edward realized with a pang of jealousy.

Some food was already on the table, but it looked like no one had eaten anything. When Edward grew closer, the girl tapped Dietrich's shoulder. Dietrich looked up and saw Edward. He stood up immediately, rocking the table. The guy grasped out, stopping it from moving, and Dietrich was apologizing when Edward was close enough to hear them.

The seat to the left of Dietrich was open, and Dietrich made a gesture for Edward to sit. "Edward," he exclaimed, his handsome face lighting up immediately. He paused, looking at Edward, before he remembered his friends. "This is Sarai and Bernd, they're my friends from school. Sarai thought... well, insisted on double dating when she heard you were going to be here, so..." Dietrich's cheeks were red. "Here they are."

"Nice to meet you, Eddie," Sarai reached over the table and held out her hand. Edward took it with his flesh hand and shook it.

"Same," Bernd said, and he offered his hand as well. Edward let go of Sarai's hand and shook Bernd's with his flesh hand as well.

They all sat down together. Sarai and Bernd, as if freed of some terrible order, immediately began to take food.

Dietrich was apparently not pleased by this turn of events, but Edward found himself rather enjoying it. He never interacted socially with people his own age. It was different.

Bernd was a pig and Sarai liked to hit him and call him that. Sarai was loudspoken, asked a lot of random questions about Edward's feelings on things he had never heard of like random bands or some school subjects. They were all, including Dietrich, impressed when Edward was forced to explain he'd taken a school equivalency test years ago and didn't worry about such things as math, or essays anymore.

It was pleasant, quiet talk, mostly with Sarai because Bernd didn't seem like much of a talker and Dietrich was being curiously silent. Then they all finished their food, and Sarai dragged a bored Bernd to the dance floor.

"Sorry about that," Dietrich apologized, "Sarai sort of followed me home and then here. She got rather excited when I told her about... well..."

"They're nice," Edward dismissed. "So."

Dietrich smiled. "Want to dance too?"

The memory of the kiss burned in Edward's mind. "Yeah," he said a bit too quickly.

Dietrich leaned over, and his lips were on Edward's. He pushed his mouth harder, passionate, and the lightheaded, faint feeling seeped over Edward again. Dietrich's hand was on the table, and Edward grasped it with his flesh hand.

There was a slight screech as Dietrich moved his chair closer, and the angle was better and their faces collided. He could breath in and smell Dietrich's scent filling his lungs, surrounding him until their mouths were the only things that existed. Edward felt dizzy again, and he almost reached out to hold Dietrich's face when the thought of automail rushed into his mind and he grabbed his own chair to steady himself. It was wetter, and smelled slightly of the food they'd just been eating, and Dietrich's mouth was open and his lips moving against Edward's.

_A lot of kissing_, Edward's mind translated.

Dietrich's knuckles brushed against Edward's cheek, and Edward opened his eyes to see Dietrich moving his glasses with his free hand. His eyes fixed on the way Dietrich's eyeslashes brushed his cheeks, until Dietrich was _sucking_ on his lips.

Edward hoped he'd imagined the groan he's given. He kissed back, far more clumsy against Dietrich's lips, but the teenager didn't seem to notice. His free hand slid up, the fingers sending shockwaves down to Edward's groin, something he was trying not to think about. Touching gently from Edward's shoulder to his neck, the long fingers pushed like tangles in Edward's braid. With the hands that were holding, Dietrich and Edward interlocked their fingers. The feeling of Dietrich's own sweaty, nervous palm against Edward's was enough to give him confidence to open his mouth, like Mustang had told him to do but Edward forgot that, and kiss harder.

The tip of Dietrich's tongue slipped just past Edward's lips, barely even touching the top of Edward's teeth. It brushed against Edward's own tongue. At that moment, Edward couldn't think of anything more intimate then the strong taste of sweet bun and their woven hand.

His automail arm, responding to his command, brushed its gloved, mechanical fingers against Dietrich's hair, and Edward wished he could feel the texture of the jet black locks beneath his false fingertips.

Dietrich pulled back, letting his lips free barely an inch away from Edward's. His thumb brushed the side of Edward's neck, under his ear. He was breathing, hard, and Edward was holding his breath.

"Tomorrow you can come to my mother's bakery for lunch," Dietrich gasped, "I have the address." His hand abandoned its embrace with Edward's flesh and and reached into his pocket. He took out the paper and set it on the table. "Come by whenever, I'll be there. I'll show you my room and everything. We have great food, you know."

Edward wrapped his arms around Dietrich's neck and forced him back into a painful kiss.

"You have bruises on your mouth," Alphonse giggled. "You were kissing, weren't you?"

Edward, his hand over his face, walked quickly into the bathroom and shut the door. He turned the water to practically freezing and stepped in.

He had a very, very good nights sleep.

A secretary of Mustang's woke Edward up so she could give him a slip of paper that had Edward's schedule of appearances for the rallys. When Edward scanned it and found out he hadn't anything until Monday, he set it down on the table and forgot about it.

It was twelve.

Edward's eyes widened. He threw open his dresser drawers, grabbing one of the outfits. He threw it on, brushed his teeth, and was braiding his hair as he rushed out of the military compound. Thankfully, this time he saw no one.

The braid was probably lopsided, and Edward was sure part of his hair was sticking up where it shouldn't be. He looked at the address, reading it for the first time, and growled at the realization that he had no idea where that was.

He stopped a man in a police uniform, and the man, despite being angry at being interrupted, pointed Edward toward the right street. He was perfectly on time for lunch when he walked through the door of 'Rose Street Bakery'.

Dietrich was right about it, Edward had started smelling cinnamon and frosting long before he'd seen the bakery, and that was always a good sign. It was larger then Edward had expected, he looked in the window and saw that it had seats and there were actually people inside. A waiter, an older woman in a blue apron that matched the pale blue, brown and white design of the place, smiled when she saw Edward and told him if he wanted a meal he could sit down and she would be right with him after she did a different table. There was also a line, a few people standing up at a counter. A woman Edward immediately knew to be Dietrich's mother was taking orders behind the counter. She was a large woman with long hair the same shade of Dietrich's, and bright, serious brown eyes.

Edward wasn't entirely sure where to go, and he was relieved in a few seconds when Dietrich appeared from behind the counter. "Edward," he said.

His mouth was a bit bruised as well, but the fact that he had flour on his face and a patch of blue sugar against his nose covered it well. His face erupted into a perfect, happy smile, and he wiped his baking supply covered hands on the blue apron tied around his waist. "There was a bit of an explosion," Dietrich explained, embarrassed.

Edward smiled, "Looks delicious."

He noticed Dietrich's mother sending them an odd look, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable in the open.

"Look, I have to finish sweeping, but if you order something from Mrs. Shording don't worry about the cost, and you can eat it upstairs with me when I finish." Dietrich only could smile at Edward, and then he left after exchanging a look with the waitress.

Mrs. Shording, the waitress, walked up to Edward. There was a dark look in her eye. "You're Deet's friend," she said in a strong, south German accent.

Edward stared at her. "Yeah."

"Not like Lukas, are you?" Mrs. Shording said, her jaw clenched.

Edward swallowed, surprised not only that this woman knew about Lukas, but cared for Dietrich and yet seemed to disapprove. "My name is Edward," he replied, "not Lukas. Sorry."

Mrs. Shording shrugged. "What do you want?"

Edward blinked in confusion, and ventured, "What do you have?"

She began to rattle off the menu so fast that Edward interrupted her quickly with the first thing she said that sounded good. Mrs. Shording wrote it down, then turned in military style and left.

Behind her back, Edward mock saluted.

He sat down at one of the tables, making sure the line of people was between him and Dietrich's mother because he did not want to see the expression on her face after seeing one from Mrs Shording. He figured the fact that Dietrich was dating someone who could potentially have Dietrich killed was enough to make the friends and family dislike them.

They'd probably hate him even more if they knew he was the Full Metal Alchemist.

Edward tugged on the glove and sleeve over his automail arm to make sure they were in place. His food came after awhile, delivered by the unhappy Mrs. Shording who didn't say a word to him, and Edward had finished half of it by the time Dietrich, looking much more clean, apronless, and seemed to have changed his clothes, appeared.

"Hey," Dietrich said. "We have to go through the kitchen to get upstairs, but we can get in the kitchen by the side door so we don't... disturb my mother."

"Sure," Edward agreed whole-heartedly. If he could avoid that woman forever, he would be fine with that.

Once outside, Dietrich took Edward's food for him. They walked around to the alleyway, and Dietrich opened a door on the side of the building with a key. They passed what appeared to be a large freezer and a giant pantry, and, once in a hallway, Dietrich opened another door and revealed a set of stairs. "This is where we live," he explained.

The stairs were a bit cramped, but Edward did note that at one point Dietrich had to duck, when Edward did not. The house, when he saw it, was a single room with the kitchen, laundry, and living room all connected, and there were three rooms in the back. One, Edward assumed, was a bathroom and the other bedrooms. It wasn't very large, but for a place in Central it seemed like Dietrich and his mother did very well. "That's the bathroom," Dietrich pointed to one of the rooms as he crossed the floor to the kitchen, "and the room at the wall is mine, the one in the middle is my mother's."

He set Edward's food down on the table, beside a plate of chips and a sandwich. "Water?" Dietrich offered, and when Edward nodded he poured them both a glass.

"Mrs. Shording doesn't seem to like me very much," Edward said.

Dietrich flushed. "Sorry. She and my mother don't like the thought of me dating again, after..."

"What happened?"

Dietrich wrapped both of his hands around his cup and stared into the water. "It's a bit of a story," he said.

"I'll listen," Edward promised.

Dietrich hesitated, waiting for awhile, before he seemed to force himself to explain. "Lukas was my age, we went to school together. He worked here, as a waiter when Mrs. Shording wasn't on duty. It took us both awhile, we were fourteen when we started feeling like more then friends. After that, we got very close." Dietrich blushed a bit and Edward tried to crush a pit of jealousy in his stomach.

_Lukas is dead_, Edward reminded himself, _there's no need to be jealous of him_.

"He was Ishvalan," Dietrich said, "his whole family. Bright, red eyes, the lot of them. They were outcasts though, living in the city, but they didn't care. His sister, Lukas had a sister about twenty, Marie, was getting married to another Ishvalan, their mom had passed awhile ago, just natural causes, and their father was pretty old as well. Lukas and Marie were born late, considering.

"When the relocation was ordered, we were both fifteen. Lukas' family didn't have to move until he had just turned sixteen though. But his father wouldn't," Dietrich paused. "That man was stubborn. He never believed what me and Lukas were doing, and he refused to relocate. Marie was staying behind, with her fiance. The military dogs, from what I know, and some soulless state alchemist started beating on Lukas' father, a man who could barely stand up in the morning."

Dietrich swallowed. "When Lukas tried to stop them, the alchemist killed him," Dietrich continued quickly, "Lukas' father had a heart attack. Then, when the military found Marie, they forced her into a brothel. When she learned she was going to be a prostitute, to the government that had killed her family, she hung herself."

Edward was speechless.

"It's not the best story to tell over dinner," Dietrich confessed.

"I'm sorry," Edward said quietly.

"It's that dumb alchemist who should be sorry," Dietrich scowled, the angry expression something Edward had never seen before. "Not alchemists," he said to assure Edward, "just those bloodsucking monster _state_ alchemists."

Edward did not feel assured.

"I think, I think my mother and Mrs. Shording don't want me to be hurt again. I was such a wreak after Lukas, and I don't think I ever felt better until..." Dietrich smiled, "Until I saw your gold eyes and figured I'd give it a shot."

"I'm glad you did," Edward said even while he wondered if he should even be there.

"Let's talk about something less depressing," Dietrich changed the subject. "You wouldn't believe this one lady who came in today, trying to get a discount because the bread here is more expensive then at some other bakery in Central."

Dietrich continued his story, and Edward ate and tried to listen. His mind was whirling. _There goes ever telling him I'm a state alchemist_, he decided forcefully, _and no talking about the automail either in case he guesses I'm Full Metal. Damn his stupid story, damn him for being with Lukas before he met me. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!_

"Can you believe that?"

Edward blinked. "Nope," he said.

Dietrich nodded and shook his head. "The lady was crazy, honestly."

They finished their food, Dietrich telling stories and Edward responding to them. When they were done, Dietrich excused himself to bring the plates downstairs for the cleaning staff, and Edward contemplated jumping out the window and making his escape.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to hit something, he wanted to fight. Edward forced himself to hold it all in, and he could feel the physical strain.

Edward tried to concentrate on being alone with Dietrich. He tried to concentrate on being alone with Dietrich and a _bed, _but despite the images his mind brought in front of him, after effects of Mustang's talk but he refused to acknowledge that, he couldn't keep the horrible, sinking feeling in his mind that Dietrich would never want him if he knew who Edward was

S_hould I tell him, _Edward wondered, _does he deserve that_?

Dietrich's footsteps were on the stairs, and Edward fumbled with a smile when he appeared. "Hey, you," Dietrich greeted.

"There's something I need to say," Edward told him.

Dietrich paused.

"And I don't want to, exactly, but," Edward swallowed. _What am I going to tell him_?

"We're going too fast," Dietrich interrupted Edward's thoughts. "I know we are, I'm sorry."

"What?"

Dietrich took Edward's head in his hands, but instead of kissing him, he brushed Edward's hair out of his eyes tenderly. "I'm sorry, I know how you must be feeling. I didn't meant to rush you."

"Well, now that you mention..."

Dietrich pressed his lips against the top of Edward's forehead. "I know I'm older, and bigger, and stronger, but I would never take advantage-"

"Wait, WHAT?" Edward shouted angrily.

"I said, I'm older, and stronger-"

"I am stronger then you," Edward insisted, looking critiqually at Dietrich's incredible skinny body. "I am a thousand times stronger then you."

"You are not," Dietrich said.

"Oh yeah?" Edward forced Dietrich's hands off his face. "Let's wrestle. Right now."

"I'm not going to hurt you, you don't have to prove-"

Edward grabbed Dietrich's arm and twisted it.

"Ow!" Dietrich shouted. His entire form bent, trying to relieve the pain. "That doesn't prove anything!"

Edward let go, moved to the other side of the table, and held his flesh hand out. "Let's arm wrestle." Dietrich, wincing, placed his hand against Edwards. "You say when we start," Edward told him.

Dietrich positioned himself carefully, running through something mathematical in his head, and nodded. "Ready."

Edward tossed his hand down until a centimeter before it touched the table.

"Oh my God," Dietrich gasped. He tried, with all his strength, to bring the arm back up, he even cheated, taking his second hand and pulling, but even that did nothing.

Edward didn't break a sweat. When he let go of Dietrich's hand, he leaned back and let a smug look cross his face. "Well," Edward said, "I think we've determined who's stronger."

Dietrich nodded. "I'm still older," he insisted, rubbing the arm Edward had twisted, "and taller."

Edward frowned. "Who are you calling short," he growled, "I could beat the pulp out of you-"

"I concede," Dietrich held up his hands with a laugh, "I give. Don't hurt me anymore."

Edward nodded. He leaned back in his chair with a creak. Dietrich rubbed his arm. He looked up at Edward. Edward met his gaze.

"Want to see my room," Dietrich offered.

"Sure," Edward said quickly.

Dietrich's room looked like it had recently been cleaned, perhaps as recently as the morning. There was the smell of a vacuum, and the bed was made perfectly with dark blue sheets and tan pillows. The wallpaper was a simply beige, and a stack of school books was on the dresser beside the bed. By the door, there was a bookshelf, and Edward skimmed the titles and saw that they were the same kind of inventive, fantasy novels that Alphonse was reading as they were waiting for orders.

Maybe there was something to them. Edward decided to try reading sometime.

Dietrich had a desk, with a small mirror, on which there were several photos.

There was one of Dietrich and Sarai; and one with Dietrich and another boy, a boy with red eyes and light brown hair. Lukas was Dietrich's height back then, Edward noticed, and he wished for the millionth time that he could get a growth spurt fast. There were two of Dietrich and his mother, rather recent ones since Edward doubted Dietrich would display ones of him as a child. There was only one old looking photograph, a man in military uniform.

_A state alchemist uniform_.

"Your father was a state alchemist," Edward asked.

"A long time ago. Before the massacres," Dietrich said.

_There's hope yet_, Edward decided, and the thought brought his mood up considerably. He turned, finding Dietrich pulling a book out from one of the bookshelves. His mood darkened.

"Have you ever read this," Dietrich held up the book. It was by some author named H. G. Wells. "It's my favorite." He looked fondly at the cover. "A new invention out of the minds of those odd British."

"Can't say I have," Edward admitted.

"You should borrow it," Dietrich offered.

"I'm not a fast reader," Edward confessed.

"It's not long of a book," he said, "and you can take your time." He handed the book to Edward, he just held it awkwardly. "Do you read much?"

"Yes," Edward answered truthfully, but felt he had to clarify, "about alchemy. And alchemy related stone- stuff."

"Maybe you could teach me some alchemy," Dietrich offered, "I might have a knack for it, considering my dad was the Lion Alchemist."

"_Lion_ Alchemist," Edward repeated. The name was vaguely familiar, he recalled reading about him in a records book. He'd held two records. Edward's face flushed. Two records that the _Full Metal_ _Alchemist_ had beaten. The Lion Alchemist was the previous youngest alchemist admitted, and the previous youngest to receive a Metal of Valor.

He'd pushed Dietrich's father out of history. That was _not_ a plus.

"Yeah," Edward said. "Sure, should I start with the basics?"

Dietrich nodded, sitting on the bed, and Edward sat next to him.

Halfway between Edward's lecture on the Law of Equivalent Exchange, while he was insisting rather passionately that Dietrich never, _ever, __**ever, EVER**_ try bringing a human being back to life, Dietrich kissed him.

Kissing Dietrich was better then anything. Edward moaned out load, and this time he didn't try to hide it. He pressed his lips as hard as he could against Dietrich's mouth.

Dietrich's hands were in his braid again, tugging and interweaving with his hair. Dietrich had soft lips and a hard jaw, but he pressed his mouth so gently against Edward's that Edward felt the feverish pitch slacken.

Dietrich dropped his hands out of Edward's hair and took Edward's arms in his. His soft lips moved, slowly, against Edward's until they barely moved at all, they were just a series of calming presses.

Edward almost felt tired. Dietrich's hypnotizing touch kept him panting to feel the next.

"Edward," Dietrich said quietly against Edward's cheek.

Edward leaned deeper against Dietrich's body, until he was leaning his head on Dietrich's chest and the kisses were falling against his nose and cheek. Gradually, he fell asleep.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


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